Spells Through the Seasons
by Kiku Hoshi
Summary: Ginny grew up through Hogwarts. The seasons changed with her. Written for the Seasons Challenge .
1. i

**Fall, 1992**

September First. Somehow, the date always managed to sneak up on her, and it always seemed to be different. The weather could be completely different, or someone new would be joining them – or staying behind. It could be the wind that decided to start to whistle, or the foliage turning their many hues before beginning that all-too-rapid descent to death.

This September First, the thing that was different was the extra truck upon the trolley. She was the baby, and had finally reached the age in which she could join her brothers. She tried to keep herself hidden from her brothers on the train, and especially from one Harry Potter. Instead, she sat with her cousins Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood (both somewhere along the lines of third cousin, twice removed, she wasn't entirely sure, though), the former returning for his second year and constantly looking for his toad, the latter (a fellow first year) was wearing earrings made from Cockroach Clusters. The train ride was too short for her liking. She wanted to go to Hogwarts, but she also wanted to stay at home, comfortable and protected by her mother and father and elder brothers.

She was herded into her age grouping once she disembarked. Luna stayed with her while Neville wandered over to one of the horseless carriages, kicking up leaves from the dense coating of colors on the ground. Ginny Weasley found herself looking for her siblings and saw the Twins with Lee Jordan, and "Perfect Prefect Percy" yelling at the top of his lungs for first years (his eyes bugging and face red as he waved his hands around maniacally, she pointed to Luna with a giggle, but Luna very seriously wondered aloud if he was suffering from the bite of a rabid tomato), but not Ronnie or Harry Potter. It felt weird to suddenly go a whole train ride – hours – without seeing them, instead of bumping into them every moment.

She managed her way onto a boat, clutching to Luna for dear life. She'd heard about the carriages and the boats that just propelled themselves, but even so, she was one of many who squealed when they took off from the shore across the lake. Luna just stared into the mist straight in front of the vessel, overtop the heads of her peers. The redhead didn't even bother asking, as she knew her cousin's queerness.

She gasped when they rounded the bend. She'd seen the castle before, for her brothers' graduations, but she'd never felt such awe as she did the first time she viewed Hogwarts as a student.

* * *

She stood nervously, one of the last ones called up to be sorted. The hat was placed upon her, and it flopped over her eyes.

"_Another Weasley? Oh, you're a girl! First one in centuries, dear!"_

_** I realize this, thank you.**_

"_Snippy, aren't we? It's the redhead temper, I assume."_

She chose not to respond to the taunt, even though she wanted to snap back terribly. _**Could you do me a favor?**_

"_I could try."_

_** Gryiffindor?**_

"_Afraid to be without your family? Hmm, a trait of the house of Lions is to be brave… You're bright, though, and talented. Perhaps Ravenclaw would be best for you."_

Ginny shook her head violently, disturbing the Hat and having it tip precariously. Whispered conversations began about what the Hat was telling her to make her react so.

"_No? Why not? Oh well… I see compassion. Hufflepuff?"_

Again, violent no. This time, she dislodged the Hat significantly, but still it stayed. The conversations grew slightly louder, but not loud enough to attract the attention of the Twins, who would hex anyone talking badly about their baby sister into the next millennia.

"_You're a clever one. Slytherin would suit you for that, but I hate to nip young love in the bud, so GRYFFINDOR!"_

When the Sorting Hat came off, no one could understand why the youngest Weasley ran so rapidly to her table with her hair covering her face, and ducked her head into her elder brothers' robes. Only Gred and Forge saw the glimmer of happiness in her eyes, and her brilliantly red face.

_ Confundo_.

* * *

September Third. She sat in a tree, a Sugarquill in her mouth. In her hands was the cheap, old, tattered diary she'd discovered within her pile of school books. She'd never kept a diary before, terrified that it would find its way into Fred and George's hands or, worse, Ron's. Her real quill rested on the first page of the book, ink dripping onto the page. After a moment, she began to write.

_Diary,_

_Hello. My name is Ginerva Molly Weasley – Ginny for short. I'm the first Weasley girl to have been born in quite a few years, at least three generations (I'm also the baby of the family, can you believe there's seven of us??!), and my mum's a Prewett. That makes me a pureblood, only my family is considered a blood traitor. I'm a first year student at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. I'm in Gryffindor, and I have a terrible crush on this boy named Harry Potter… He saved the Wizarding World from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but… His eyes are what I like best about him._

The ink shone wet on the page for a few moments, then soaked into the pages. Ginny smiled, knowing some of the more-expensive diaries did such a thing so as to keep nosy people out, unless they knew the password. Perhaps the diary wasn't as cheap as she had believed.

She went to close the pages when she realized there were words faintly etched onto the page. Her brown eyes went wide when she realized that they were neither her penmanship nor her words, and they were darkening every second.

_Ginny,_

_Hello, dearest, my name is Tom. I, too, am a student at Hogwarts, but I'm a halfblood._

_Six brothers? You must be joking! I'm an only child, my mum had me and then she died, so I went to an orphanage. First girl in centuries? Wow, that's amazing._

_Harry Potter?_

Here the other writer seemed to pause, and the next sentence came out more forcefully than any of the others.

**_Never heard of him._**_ What's he like?_

_I hope you can trust me, and that we'll become great friends. I've never had a real friend before._

_-Tom_

At the final sentence, Ginny's heart broke. An only child, orphaned, with no friends? She wanted to take care of him. She began to scribble back furiously, a small half-smile of pity on her face.

_ Obscuro_.

* * *

Early October. Ginny had completely lost track of the dates, and was starting to feel sicker and sicker. Couple that with her blackouts, which were slowly getting worse, and she started believing that she should maybe talk to Percy about getting help from Madam Pomfry.

Of course, when she did decide to speak to him, he just plugged her nose and shoved some PepperUp Potion down her throat. _That wasn't the point_, she thought, sputtering. _I think I'm going crazy!_ A lump started to rise in her throat, but turned away from her company as she told herself to just breathe. She didn't want Percy to see her cry, and then write to her mum about it. Molly would probably march up to the castle to collect her daughter herself.

She shook herself, called out a small thanks to Percy as her throat began to burn, and walked slowly, carefully, away.

_ Episkey_.

* * *

Mid-October. She was growing weaker by the moment. She tried to avoid Percy by staying in bed most of the time, and only leaving for meals or classes. Now, she pulled out her diary from under her pillow, stifling a yawn. She was so tired, wanting nothing more than a nap, but she knew she had to write to her Tom. He missed her, needed her. She opened to the first page, dipped her quill in ink, and set it on the page.

_Tom, I think I'm getting sick._

The words shone, and then vanished. A moment later, Tom's reply came up.

_Don't fight it. If you fight it, you'll only make it worse._

Before she could ponder his words, her eyes flashed red, then green. Finally, they ended up at her normal brown. With an evil smile, Ginny got up, putting on her uniform, and made her way downstairs. There would be much to do tonight.

_ Imperio._

* * *

Halloween. Ginny was barely eating anymore, but she decided to go to the feast just in case. Her feet, small and clumsy with illness, were unsure on the stairs, and she gripped the handrails with tight, white fingers. She looked like walking Death, so pale, her hair combed but dull, and thin enough to practically see through. Her professors stopped her in the halls, asking if she was alright. She nodded every time, a small smile showing on her flushed face, one of the few places on her body with color.

Even this kind of exercise was painful.

She made her way towards the Great Hall, hearing the faint notes of music coming from its general direction. As she got closer, she heard the song more clearly, and recognized it as a sung version of "Babbity Rabbitty and her Cackling Stump". She smiled, glad that she had convinced herself to leave her dorm.

In the back of her mind, Tom was pleased, too.

_ Repello Muggletum_.


	2. ii

**Winter, 1994**

December First. Hermione caught up to Ginny after Transfiguration, her cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling. The littlest Weasley knew that look: it was the look of contentment. After placing a Silencing Charm around their location, the brunette had confided in Ginny about being asked to the Ball by Viktor Krum. Ginny was a bit jealous – an international Quidditch star had asked Hermione to the ball, of course she was going to have a snippet of those feelings rise up in her. Ginny's envy turned to naught when Hermione frowned and her eyes dulled at Ginny's covetous reaction, and divulged an even bigger secret, one which Ginny wasn't to tell under pain of death: Hermione wished Ron had asked her first. When Ginny asked why Hermione didn't just ask him, the brunette stammered a reply along the lines of "boys should ask girls". Ginny just smiled, rolled her eyes, and took the elder girl by the hand. Smartest witch of her year, and she couldn't even figure out that Ronnie liked her back. Instead of pushing it, however, Ginny just listened to Hermione wonder what to wear, adding her own opinion when it was clearly wanted.

Just outside the common room, Ginny made an excuse about forgetting something or another in McGonagall's classroom, which Hermione accepted without a second thought. As soon as the portrait hole closed behind the older girl, Ginny's smile vanished. She laughed at the girl who had the same problem as she.

_Hypocrite_, she thought, tears beginning to form in her own eyes.

She made her way down towards the lake, lost in thought, tears spilling over onto her cheeks. It was just warm enough to get by with a sweater and not a coat, and the snowfall a few days before was melting. Patches of sickly yellow-green were evident through the dirty, slushy ice. Small pockets of water gathered in the potholes along the dirt path, and she skipped through and around them, thankful, for once, that she decided to wear her rain boots.

She hadn't been puddle-jumping in years, since before she attended Hogwarts. Now, it took her back to before she had met Hermione or Harry. A half-grin formed on her face as she stomped into a particularly clear puddle, delighting in the patterns that the dirt formed. She didn't have to stay clean for once, instead allowing the water to splash on her robe and underneath it, getting her legs wet and her robe sopping.

She didn't think of her relationship problems, or those of Hermione's. There was no homework or Houses, no rivalries. There was only little Ginny Weasley, ten years old, playing alone in the yard on a rainy summer day, while Molly looked out the window of the Burrow for her husband, as she cooked. After a while, even that fantasy disappeared.

Then, there was only Ginny.

_Aguamenti_.

* * *

December Twelfth. Neville had asked her to the ball, after she'd come back to classes. The puddle jumping hadn't been such a good idea, after all, and she accepted in exchange for his help with Herbology catch-up.

_Orchideous_.

* * *

December Fifteenth. Ron was quivering and near tears. Ginny was trying to calm him, hoping to keep the spectacle under control. It didn't work, as her coos and obvious Molly impression only made him more upset. Harry and Hermione came over to see what was wrong, and Ginny revealed Ron's blunder. After continuing his spectacle for a few more minutes, just for Hermione and Harry's benefit, Ron went suddenly quiet (that was never good). When he looked up, Ginny could practically see the gears in his head working.

Ginny tsked in her head. _Ronnie, Ronnie, don't play with fire._

* * *

Later on, she comforted both Ron and Hermione (at different times of course) over the loss of the other. Hermione wanted to cancel her date with Viktor and go with Ron instead, but Ginny managed to dissuade her from that line of thought. Instead, she persuaded Hermione to go with Viktor, to prove to Ron that she (Hermione) wasn't as desperate as he was.

She later told Ron the truth: he was a git for assuming Hermione was going to the Ball alone, and yes, she really did have a date. Both girls did. Yes, really.

_Git_, she thought as he stormed away.

_Riddikulus._

* * *

December Twenty-Fifth. Ginny was cold. Not "freezing to the core" cold, not even physically cold. Just cold, and she couldn't quite figure out why. Neville stepped on her toes again and she winced, forcing herself to look up at him with a smile plastered on her face.

He whispered something to her. A thanks for coming to the Ball with him, she thought. She nodded, and buried her face in his white dress shirt (lucky Neville – she wasn't wearing any makeup), shivering. He stopped their dance and led her to a table, where he took off his dress robe and offered it to her. She accepted it, allowing him to place it on her, laughing when she held her arms up and some of the fabric from the sleeves dangled off her limbs. Awkward, gangly Cousin Neville blushed and held his hand out for her. Ginny, now physically toasty, lead him outside, where they stood and made small talk.

Snow soaked her satin slippers, the prettiest shoes she owned, but she didn't care. She just couldn't bear to see the Patil twin, whichever one she was, simpering over Harry, getting mad when he won't dance, and so obviously with him only because he's a Champion.

Neville shivered, and she realized he wasn't wearing his jacket, and his shirt was rather thin. The jacket, she noticed, had kept her warm as though she was wearing a coat. She allowed him to lead her back inside, where the classical music had finally stopped and a band was seemingly beginning to set up.

She still shivered when she saw him.

* * *

December Twenty-Fifth, later that night. She couldn't stand watching Harry watch Cho all night. Why didn't he just look once at her? She thought she looked very pretty. She wanted to cut out early, but didn't want to give the wrong impression to Neville, who would either take it as a sign that she wanted to snog (ew, favorite cousin!), or that she was embarrassed to be with him.

She couldn't do that to her favorite cousin.

_Rictusempra._


	3. iii

**Spring, 1996**

April Twentieth. She looked up at the crowd, sweaty and a bit muddy. A small trickle of blood wound down her chin from where she bit her lip by accident. Hoisted triumphantly in the air by her small hand was the Snitch, as those sharing her colors screamed with joy.

Gryffindor, 450; Ravenclaw, 140.

* * *

Early afternoon, the portrait swung forward, and Ginny's eyes lit up when she saw who had crawled through the door. Her brother began to yell at Harry over the roar of the party-goers, repeating the score, but Ginny's eyes were focused upon Harry's smile and his green, green eyes.

She knew what she wanted to do.

Adrenaline and lust compacted into one, but she checked it back quickly, rushing over to give him a hug. She turned her head, ready to whisper that she hadn't let him down, but instead, his lips closed over hers.

_Petrificus Totalus._

* * *

June Nineteenth. The sounds of the forest surrounded them. Birds chirping, the rustle of branches and plants as the centaurs left the humans. She had put on her rosewater, the scent that she hoped would cheer up Harry – she knew he loved her to smell of flowers.

She knew what he was going to say before he even had the chance to open his mouth. She expected nothing different from The Boy Who Lived. While he explained, she didn't cry, didn't let anyone know what was happening between them. To most, it looked like they were conversing politely, trying to make up for the public displays of affection that their friends were making by keeping a comfortable distance from each other.

Yes, no one would know they were ending what could have started unless they saw her face: adrenaline, rush of the unknown, and lust, hope for her future. The same look she had had a few weeks before, when they first kissed.

She laughed for one of her answers, her eyes shining a bit too brightly, then immediately regretted it when Harry got up, turned his back to her, and walked away. Light caught in his hair, making a small halo around his head (she never noticed the red sheen in his hair until that point, she realized, a small reminder of his mother, aside from his eyes), and the position of the sun in the sky cast his shadow over her as he walked away.

Their love would bloom. Then just wasn't the time for it.

* * *

June Nineteeth, sunset. The sun-stained tomb glistened in the sun, as though it had been covered with the tears of the mourners.

_Point Me._


	4. iv

**Summer, 1996**

July Thirty-First. Ginny turned her back on Harry, when Ron opened the door. She did this, not because she was crying as he suspected, but because she wanted to run her fingers over her lips. Love struck? Perhaps. Crazy? Definitely.

_Silencio._

* * *

August First. During the reception, Ginny meandered towards Luna, if only because of the intensity of her costume drew the Weasley girl to her like a moth to a flame. After a few moments of chattering, the redhead was beginning to see everything with a yellow tinge, and she excused herself. She locked eyes with Harry, a small smile gracing her lips and growing wider at the sight of his red, curly hair. He looked different, she knew, but she couldn't help seeing the Harry she knew – except for that shock of hair. The boy was sitting next to a former competitor of his, Viktor Krum. _Oh, Ronnie can't be too happy that he showed up_. She didn't want to have to control an emotional Ron, from either part of the negative spectrum.

The heat was unbearable, she noted, finding the twins and, by proxy, Lee Jordan. They chattered _pleasantly_ for a few moments, and then the two Weasley boys left, causing Lee to turn to the youngest Weasley and ask, quite embarrassed, for a dance. She accepted, having always enjoyed Lee's company, and they twirled on the floor. She couldn't help but feel a tad but shaky, though, as she wasn't sure if she was sweating, and the atmosphere was just too stifling.

_When I get married, I'm not having my reception outside._

They parted when the music ended, each giving the other a friendly smile. and she noted Harry sitting with Aunt Muriel and some older wizard with what looked a ratted puffskein in place of his head – she realized that was his hair covering his skin – and a small cap. Harry was looking back towards Muriel with a shocked expression on his face, and she wondered what was wrong with him, what Muriel was saying that was so upsetting. She watched for a moment more, then wandered over to the hors d'oeuvres and looked down at them, wondering why he hadn't yet spoken to her. An impulsive urge to look up forced Ron, who had been staring, to lock eyes with her. Her youngest older brother averted his eyes quickly, guiltily. Suddenly, she knew that Ron had something to do with Harry ignoring her.

* * *

Mere moments had passed.

She didn't see it appear. All she heard was Shacklebolt's voice, saying the three sentences she was terrified of hearing, but didn't show. The D.A. training had worked well, because, in the panic that ensued afterward, she managed keep her head clear enough to find Bill and Fleur (how could she not? Phlegm practically gave off a neon light of "Look At Me!"-ness). They Disapparated with Fleur's immediate family, and arrived inside the newly-built, and still empty, Shell Cottage, the newlywed's home (somewhere that the others had never been before).

Gabrielle ran off to another part of the house, sobbing (a bit dramatically, Ginny thought). Fleur's parents, Fleur, and Bill all ran after her, and Ginny was left alone. It was just as well, as she had quite a bit to think about.

She knew, without a doubt, that the attack would be the catalyst for the Trio's trip. She still wasn't sure what they were doing, but knew there was a good chance that she would never see Harry, Hermione, or her brother again, but she tried to stop herself from thinking more about that. _Optimism, Miss Weasley. You _will_ see them again, alive and well. You will be able to look into his green, green eyes, call him a stupid git, and kiss him again._

With her head in her hands, she sat down on the floor. _Oh, who'm I kidding. I'll be lucky to see tomorrow. _Shelooked around the empty room, wishing she had the ability to write a letter to Neville. Instead, she had to content herself with pulling her knees up to just under her chin, and burying her face in the crevice.

To try to stop herself from thinking about not having the Trio around, she wondered how the rest of her immediate family had faired. Bill and Fleur were here, with her, so she wasn't worried about them. Charlie was probably of little value to the Death Eaters, as he barely knew Harry, so he was safe. The Twins… She was sure they could handle themselves. Her dad was a Ministry member, so he, too, should be alright. Her mum was probably freaking out, wondering what had happened to her daughter, youngest son, and his friends.

The thought of her mum worrying so brought a nostalgic smile to her lips.

In the silence, she heard the soft coo of Fleur's voice, in French, and then the wail of her younger sister.

"Je ne comprends pas!"

"Yeah, me either," she murmered into her skin.

* * *

A while later, a Patronus was sent, summoning them back home. They knew the Death Eaters would be there still, but they went. After the questioning, she did manage to send her letter off to her cousin, but she merely asked for a meeting with him by the lake.

An innocent message from one cousin to another. No hidden messages, no reason for the still-lingering Death Eaters to worry.

Pig went out the window into the twilight, and she slid a sly look at Lucius Malfoy, who had read over her letter and allowed it to pass through very reluctantly. The elder Malfoy wasn't paying attention to the little girl, instead conversing with his son about what had happened that day, and when they should leave. What he didn't know was that he'd just allowed the first Dumbledore's Army "meeting" to commence.

Ginny knew exactly what was going to be said at that meeting. She was going to have to tell him that the three of them – Luna, Neville, and herself – needed to shoulder the responsibility of the D.A. When Neville stammered a refusal, Ginny would sigh and say that Harry was counting on them. A guilt trip? Yes, if it meant saving the lives of those she loved most.

They would train their peers and those younger and older. They would not teach many new spells, instead concentrating on how to keep each other alive. There would be certain things taught – spells such as those Harry had learned through his stupid Potions book the year before. The D.A. would learn how to hide and fight, how to cover civilians, and, above all, to never give up.

In short, Dumbledore's Army was going to learn how to kill – and die, if need be – honorably.

What happened that day? Well, Lucius Malfoy had aided the resistance, and little Ginny Weasley finally proved that she wasn't just "Harry's Little Concubine".

_Aparecium_.


	5. epilogue

**Fall, 2019**

September First. The date didn't sneak up on her this time. It hadn't in six years. Just as every other school year, this year had something different: the addition of another trunk, just as it had had so many years ago. The boys were bickering, as always, and her daughter, her look-alike daughter, was chattering away with her cleverest cousin. The girls stopped their conversation and looked over at someone, a giggle bubbling up through both of them.

Ginny looked up from her charges and saw, with a start, Draco and Lucius Malfoy. A small shake of her head and she locked eyes with the older man, and gave him a cold, but not ice-cold, smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. He nodded his infuriating nod, eyes just as chilled, and she shifted her (much warmer) gaze to the little boy, who was looking at the youngest Potter with a supposed-to-be-unreadable, but obvious to the trained eye, look on his face. It was the look she'd noticed the dark-haired man whose arms wrapped around her waist give her so long ago: controlled curiosity, hidden by a veneer of pride. He was smitten.

She bit her lip, then elbowed her husband right under his ribcage. He stopped his conversation to look at her, at which time she gave a slight not of her head at her memory's ghost. Her daughter had left her cousin to meander towards young Scorpius; a shy smile on his face told Gin two things: that her daughter, whose face she couldn't see (but she knew exactly how the younger was acting - Ginny did the same thing once, long ago), was going to have courage she didn't possess…

And that she better put the Malfoys on the Christmas Card List.

_Expecto Patronum_.


End file.
